[fic] Said the Joker to the Thief (Gundam Wing)
Said the Joker to the Thief
Fandom: Gundam Wing
Character: Heero Yuy
Summary: There's got to be a way out of here. After "Endless Waltz."
A/N: For marmalade-girl. 327 words. Hnh, I haven't written about this guy in a long time.
After the war, he drops the name Heero Yuy, just casts it aside like a shroud. In a sense, that's precisely what it's been for the past couple of years: a thin covering for a dead man. A mask. He doesn't need it anymore.
He doesn't know his real name, but that doesn't bother him. If necessary, he can nick an ID badge, use it to get aboard a ship or into a bar, then discard it. It will be pleasant, he thinks, to be anonymous for a little while.
Well, maybe not pleasant. But quiet. Different. That's what he wants, he decides. Something different. He's tired of people and their demands, tired of being a symbol, or whatever Colonel Une called him when he fought Zechs to stop him from destroying the Earth.
It's not enough, he thinks, turning his beer bottle idly, to stop people from destroying things. You have to build. He gives a dry, bitter laugh as he remembers that the only things he's ever built are bombs.
Well, but that's a start, Relena or maybe Duo would say, trying to be encouraging.
Maybe he'll go to Mars. Lately, he's been overhearing conversations about a terraforming project. It needs workers, and apparently the promised pay is good. He doesn't care about the latter so much, though it would mean no more stealing. (Relena gave him plenty of credit before he left, but he got rid of it quickly. Gave most of it to orphanages and homeless shelters. Then he ripped his only pair of jeans, scrambling over a wire fence and began to think he'd acted rashly.)
He can get used to a red sky and red earth.
Going to Mars would mean acquiring a name. A new one. A real one.
In the men's room, there's a dirty mirror hanging over the sink. He stares into it for a long time and wonders who he is, and whom he might be.
5/4/09
Fandom: Gundam Wing
Character: Heero Yuy
Summary: There's got to be a way out of here. After "Endless Waltz."
A/N: For marmalade-girl. 327 words. Hnh, I haven't written about this guy in a long time.
After the war, he drops the name Heero Yuy, just casts it aside like a shroud. In a sense, that's precisely what it's been for the past couple of years: a thin covering for a dead man. A mask. He doesn't need it anymore.
He doesn't know his real name, but that doesn't bother him. If necessary, he can nick an ID badge, use it to get aboard a ship or into a bar, then discard it. It will be pleasant, he thinks, to be anonymous for a little while.
Well, maybe not pleasant. But quiet. Different. That's what he wants, he decides. Something different. He's tired of people and their demands, tired of being a symbol, or whatever Colonel Une called him when he fought Zechs to stop him from destroying the Earth.
It's not enough, he thinks, turning his beer bottle idly, to stop people from destroying things. You have to build. He gives a dry, bitter laugh as he remembers that the only things he's ever built are bombs.
Well, but that's a start, Relena or maybe Duo would say, trying to be encouraging.
Maybe he'll go to Mars. Lately, he's been overhearing conversations about a terraforming project. It needs workers, and apparently the promised pay is good. He doesn't care about the latter so much, though it would mean no more stealing. (Relena gave him plenty of credit before he left, but he got rid of it quickly. Gave most of it to orphanages and homeless shelters. Then he ripped his only pair of jeans, scrambling over a wire fence and began to think he'd acted rashly.)
He can get used to a red sky and red earth.
Going to Mars would mean acquiring a name. A new one. A real one.
In the men's room, there's a dirty mirror hanging over the sink. He stares into it for a long time and wonders who he is, and whom he might be.
5/4/09